


Fear

by Angelology



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelology/pseuds/Angelology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt by anonymous: (GTA AHOT6 AU) Gavin is held hostage and the boys have to save him. To go into detail, I have a MIGHTY NEED for a moment in which, fed up with Gavin's smartassing, the captor puts his gun into Gavin's mouth. The boys get incredibly angry and Gavin gets freaked. </p><p>A 4+1 in which Gavin doesn't feel fear in four scenarios when there's a gun to his head, and the one time he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This strayed a little from the prompt but I hope the 12k makes up for that :')

1.

Gavin's oxygen is being cut short, small gasps escaping as the arm around his throat begins to squeeze tighter.

Dan's across from him, slowly and calmly lowering his gun onto the ground, and to Gavin's surprise, his grip isn't even shaking. He looks confident, almost, his movements casual and relaxed and he looks prepared for something like this.

Gavin realises, dimly, that Dan probably has in fact planned for something like this – probably expected something like this to happen because, well, Gavin's his partner. And with Gavin, there's boundless opportunities for shit like this to happen.

Both of them are new to the city of Los Santos, teaming up to face the life of crime in an attempt to gain some reputation. They're young, too, young enough that they're frowned down upon by other crews who think they're a joke – too young and innocent and naïve for such a world. It frustrates Gavin to no end, but Dan tells him it's a better advantage.

“We'll take 'em by surprise, B,” he says. “You watch their faces when we're the ones to take their territory.”

Except maybe starting by trying to take some pretty big and reputable crew's territory is not the way to go. That thought, however, only crosses his mind when they're actually caught attempting to blow out a warehouse and Gavin's got some greasy big arm wrapped around his throat and the other arm pressing a gun to his temple.

“Easy mate.” Dan's addressing the man, but his gaze is locked onto Gavin. He's trying to convey that he's got it under control, that Gavin just needs to not freak out.

And Gavin would usually maybe pipe in that he's absolutely fine, thanks, he's not freaking out, because he just can't resist the temptation to open his mouth. Except he can't even get enough oxygen through to breathe properly, and his gasps are getting just a bit more desperate and it stops him from replying.

He's pretty sure he must look like some sort of strawberry. He hasn't got his hair cut in a while and it's spiking up in all directions and the gasping thing he's got going on is no doubt colouring his face a wonderful bright red.

He's still not freaking out, not yet, because he knows he's getting out of this. For Christ's sake, there's no way he's going out being choked or shot to death by some guy who hadn't showered in a month.

Not when he dreams of going out in ways that involve landing a helicarrier on the rooftop of the tallest building in Los Santos and jumping off only after forgetting his parachute. That, at least, would look kind of cool. Maybe even in middair the helicarrier could explode just for the cool effect. What wasn't cool was having the bloody life choked out of him and dying on some shitty warehouse floor.

“We can talk it out, yeah?” Dan continues, the gun now on the floor and Dan keeping his hands up. “You and me.”

The man holding Gavin snarls. Gavin rolls his eyes, and it frustrates him to no end that he can't just make some snarky remark due to the serious loss of oxygen.

He wonders how close he is to passing out. Not too long if the guy squeezed his neck any harder, that was for sure.

Dan works quicker. Gavin watches him as best he can – except his field of vision is shortening, and he can barely see Dan, can see the way he tenses, knows he's about to make his play.

Gavin brings his arm forward, bending it and slamming his elbow back into the stomach of the man holding him. He's wearing armour, but he's still been surprised and he wheels back, the gun moving from Gavin's temple and the choke loosening.

Gavin doesn't get the time to act, because Dan's already moving forward and picking up the gun. Within a moment, there's a gunshot and then Gavin hears a body fall to the floor.

It's just the one guy, thankfully, the rest of the crew out doing some kind of heist. It would be best, however, to possibly hide the body to make sure no setbacks like this happened again.

Or – or just blowing up the warehouse. Gavin decides he likes that idea a lot better. Dan would agree with it – he's not one for trying to ditch a body. Better to just let it go up in flames if possible.

Besides, blowing shit up is their speciality.

“Nice talk,” Dan remarks, kicking the body once in the head. The puddle of blood beneath the guy's head is expanding, reaching Gavin's feet. He can see it, bent over and heaving, trying to get some oxygen desperately into his lungs.

“You okay, B?” Dan asks, patting him on the back. Gavin just shoots him a blank look and Dan smiles.

“Bastard, hadn't showered in a month,” Gavin is able to croak out, shuddering when he thinks about the possible diseases he could've contracted from just the greasy arms. While, in theory, that wasn't possible, he questions that when he thinks about the amount of grease and dirt on that guy's arms.

Gavin picks up the gun that has dropped to the floor, the one that was to his head a few moments before.

It wasn't even a decent gun. Some shitty low-grade one that crews gave out to new recruits that they didn't expect to last a day. Obviously, they expected right for this guy.

Gavin chucks it across the floor, watching it skid along. Dan walks out, presumedly to get the duffel that contains their equipment to blow the place into thousands of little pieces.

They're not even going to claim the territory, Gavin thinks. It's not worth it, anyway. It's just some shitty warehouse full of shitty people with shitty guns. They were probably doing the world a favour by blowing it to tiny pieces – besides, by doing such a move it's sure to at least get their work recognised. Maybe. Hopefully.

Dan walks back in a few moments later, holding the container of fuel and a lighter. He chucks Gavin the lighter as he sets about covering as much of the place he can in fuel.

“What were you thinking?” Dan asks, just as the fuel begins to run out. He shakes it a last few times, then throws the container to the side. They walk out, Gavin making sure that they're far enough before he ignites it.

“Thinking?” Gavin repeats – because he doesn't really know how to answer that, doesn't really know why Dan is asking.

“Yeah, were you nervous or anythin'?”

Gavin shrugs as he feels the sudden wave of heat run across his back. He turns, watching as the fire begins to engulf the building.

He takes a few streets to answer. They wind down narrow streets, heads down and jacket hoods up. They're able to slip away easily enough, away from suspicion.

“Nah,” Gavin answers.

“ _Nah?_ ” Dan repeats, slightly in disbelief.

“Well, nah. I mean, I knew I wasn't going to bloody die in that shoddy warehouse,” Gavin replies, calmly and reasonably – because that's a good answer, right?

Not for Dan. “You just... knew?”

Gavin shrugs.

“You're unbelievable, B,” Dan says in exasperation.

“Well, I knew you were going to save me, right? Prince Charming or whatever,” Gavin replies, nudging Dan with his elbow. “My hero.”

“Oh shut up.”

They make it back to their small apartment – some shitty run down place with beds that squeaked as loud as Gavin squawked.

“You know, B,” Dan says, as they step inside. “I don't think it's normal that you're not afraid of guns being pointed at your heads.”

“I don't think it's normal to have a gun pointed at your head,” Gavin retorts, because he's not bothered for a lecture that Dan might be working up to. He's not. He can't explain it, can't control the way of how he's just not able to feel scared when there's a gun at his temple.

Dan sighs, and gives up trying to question him about it.

* * *

2.

His first meeting with the Fake AH Crew isn't exactly what he'd expected, but it's certainly unforgettable.

Dan's back home, going for a few days to talk to some of their contacts to get some resources and equipment as they're beginning to run low. Gavin elected to stay in Los Santos for those days – there's a crew he wants to check out, one he has wanted to for a while now.

He's caught whispers that the crew is out of town for a few days – which is perfect for him to explore their warehouse, their base of operations, by himself and without interference. To scout about, see if it's worth blowing anything up.

The crew, he knows, will reach the top quickly enough. They're growing quicker than any other crew Gavin has seen and their methods are absolutely brutal but effective. They're wiping out crews, taking their territory and building themselves up from their ruthlessness.

The name for the crew is beginning to catch on, too. The Fake AH Crew.

They're not the only ones gaining a reputation, though. Gavin and Dan – currently nameless, still going around independently and looking about to see if joining a crew was worth it – were gaining theirs rather quickly with their persistence to blow up and hinder crew's productions.

Hitting a crew like The Fake AH Crew would only strengthen their reputation. Right now, Gavin and Dan are just ghost stories – no one's been able to confirm them, and anyone that tried to claim their hits would quickly be set straight when Gavin and Dan took out as much of their productions as they could.

He waits until it's dark to go to the warehouse. He's been wandering around in the area for the day, scouting around and seeing if anything would give him away if he hit the warehouse. He's pretty sure he's in the clear – the crew has been clever with setting up their operations. This part of the city is corrupt – the police, the population. It's pretty much just crime city – no one would bother fucking with their hideout.

He slips in past the patrol easy enough. Young, probably around his age, armed and laughing about some personal joke that Gavin misses. He gets around the back, managing to open the door, placing the rifle in his hands that was slung across his back earlier, and takes about two steps inside before he stops.

There's a red dot sight on his dick. It's easily noticeable in the barely lit room, the single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. He glances towards that, rather than following the sight because – well, the three men at the table below the light are kind of hard to miss.

It's a small table, some white fold out one that is being used to hold the beers. There's empty bottles thrown about, bottles of whiskey and beer – and the good stuff, too. Gavin hasn't been able to get his hands on it for a while, most of his spendings going into explosives.

There's also a whiteboard, some sort of transportable one with a print out of a map of the city and numerous other landmarks being taped onto the board. There's scribble in some messy writing – too far for Gavin to read properly, but he catches the word “port-a-potty” and wonders just what exactly he's walked into.

The three men at the table, though, have his focus. There's one near the whiteboard, at the head of the table, with an impressive mustache. Gavin immediately knows he's the leader – the other two are watching him, waiting for his movement and authority.

Except when Gavin takes a look at one of the men – a man in a skull mask, fingers drumming against his thigh in a particular rhythmn right near the knife strapped to his leg – he realises exactly who it is.

The Vagabond, a figure of intrigue for Gavin ever since he heard about him. He is one of the very few men that Gavin tended to try and stick away from – there was just something about that mask, something about him that didn't even make him question why people might piss their pants seeing it. And definitely one of the very few men Gavin actually expected to work with a crew or listen to authority.

But in that moment, Gavin can't see him as anything but a guard dog to the leader. Ruthless, ready to attack, but wouldn't do so without the say-so.

The other man is much shorter, wearing a brown leather jacket and his curls were an immediate point of focus for Gavin, along with the amused smirk the man had. Endearing, but also made Gavin seriously ever regret getting past the patrol.

Eventually, he takes a quick glance at where the red dot sight leads to. Up onto another level – in the rafters, and they were cleverly concealed behind a crate.

“Looks like we have an issue with pest control,” the leader says, sighing in something mixed between irritation and amusement.

“More like Jack just assigned some shitty patrol,” the shorter one pipes up, moreso annoyed than the leader. The others begrudgingly mumble in agreement, meaning there's another man to the crew that Gavin has yet to meet, and hopefully wouldn't.

The Vagabond's fingers move from his leg to drumming on the knife, and Gavin can hear the faint noise of his nails hitting the metal. It is absolutely disturbing, sending Gavin's stomach into flips.

“Bollocks,” Gavin mumbles, because it's all he can really say, isn't it? He fucked up, he absolutely fucked up to the highest degree of fuckery and Dan was absolutely about to kill him if he didn't, or even did, die tonight.

“Oh,” the leader says, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. Gavin turns to him, still barely moving and barely breathing – but, but he's still not afraid, doesn't feel that rush that comes with the feeling of fear. He's fucked up, will probably die because he fucked with the wrong crew at the wrong time, but he still doesn't feel afraid.

“Oh?” The shorter one mimicks. “What the fuck is ' _oh_ '?”

The leader smirks, and Gavin smiles back just to humour him even though he's truthfully just as lost as the curly-haired one.

“Boys,” the leader addresses, and all of them turn to him. The red dot on his dick doesn't waver in the slightest, though.

“I think we've found the guy who blew up Kdin's warehouse,” the leader says, and Gavin's eyebrows furrow. He usually knows the name of the crews that he's fucked with, but Kdin didn't ring a bell. It was possible it was a fraud, maybe some other guys trying to play copy-cat with Gavin and Dan's methods.

“This guy? Nah, he said that there was two, right?” Gavin notices that the man, the one with the quick temper and leather jacket, has a slightly distinct accent.

“He also said they were foreigners.” The leader points to Gavin. “I wouldn't say this asshole is from around here, would you?”

“Two, Geoff,” the other man argues. Vagabond is remaining frustratingly quiet.

“And here's one,” Geoff fires back, waving frantically at Gavin. “Look at him, he's armed. He's in the business.”

“There's lots of people in the fucking business.”

“And how many are that fucking foreign? They don't fuck with this area.”

“Fine, whatever, message Kdin or some shit. He'll know if it's the guy, right?”

The Vagabond shifts on his feet. The drumming is annoyingly persistent, though, and the tune is already in Gavin's head.

“You,” the leader says, gesturing to Gavin. “Get the fuck over here. Right fucking now.”

Gavin's moving before he can even properly process the request. The red dot pointed at him spurs him on, and he walks up to the table until eventually the leader holds up a hand.

“Say cheese,” he says, then quickly snaps a photo of Gavin who reels in surprise.

“What? Why the bloody hell did you just take a photo of me?” Gavin demands, his voice a bit high and desperate.

“To check your identity, seeing if you're really the fuck blowing up the shit around here.” The leader – didn't the short one say Geoff, earlier? - mumbles, typing on his phone.

“You could've just asked, you donut,” Gavin mutters, and Geoff looks at him curiously.

“Alright, are you the one fucking shit up?” Geoff asks, pausing in his typing.

“Yup,” Gavin replies, a bit too smugly.

“Well, I don't believe you,” the shorter one says defiantly.

Gavin squawks in protest, because it is – damnit, and if he's about to die then someone may as well appreciate his damn work. He isn't going out with people not knowing about his work – not believing it like this damn bastard currently doesn't.

They wait for a few moments in silence. Gavin bites his lip, not trusting his instincts to say something else that could land him in deeper waters.

Finally, Geoff checks his phone again and smirks.

“You owe me fifty, Mic-”

“We weren't even betting,” the other one protests, folding his arms.

“I'm the boss, fucking pay up.”

“Fucking bullshit.”

Gavin watches in amusement. He's not so amused, however, when Geoff nods to Vagabond, who Gavin can almost see light up in glee when he approaches Gavin.

He takes a step back. Vagabond just tilts his head, pausing in his stride.

They stand in a stale mate until, suddenly, Vagabond grabs his pistol that was behind his back – probably tucked in, if Gavin had to guess – and is pointing it at Gavin's head.

Gavin just smirks. Now this, this he can do. It wasn't just standing around with some red dot on his dick. It's exhilarating and exciting and everything that is the reason Gavin loves staying in Los Santos, loves his chosen business.

Vagabond's head seems to tilt further. He steps up to Gavin, who doesn't step back.

“Come on, you bastard,” Gavin taunts. “Do it.”

He knows he won't, not without Geoff's say so. Except, well, he doesn't know if Geoff will call it or not. But that's out of his hands at the least.

“Did you blow up Kdin's warehouse?” Vagabond finally asks, his voice stopping Gavin's breath for a second – because, because it's everything that Gavin imagined before meeting him, before this very moment. It's deep and fearsome and Gavin absolutely is in love with it.

“I don't know a crew named that,” Gavin replies truthfully, and they others all sigh.

“No, dipshit,” the shorter one says. “Not a fucking crew name. One of the members.”

“ _Christ,_ then I have no idea. I don't bloody keep track of the crew member's names,” Gavin replies, a bit exasperatedly because seriously, their expectations were way too high.

“Fucking Christ. Fine, alright, how about the warehouse with the large amount of very fucking expensive computers inside?”

Gavin frowns, trying to recall such a place. “I mean, it's possible, isn't it?” He says, moreso to himself. “Might've been Da-” He stops, realising his slip-up. His heart is pounding because he fucking slipped up – they don't reveal their names, not yet, because they weren't secure enough yet to have that information passed around.

“What were you about to say then?” The leader asks, his glare hardening on Gavin.

“I, uh. My buddy. Might've been him. We split up for a week, covered our own individual places to gain up a reputation quicker. Besides, plenty of places were about to be changed to we decided to hit while we had the leads on them,” Gavin responds, trying to cover up his name slip-up with an overload of some other information.

Geoff nods. Vagabond steps closer, the gun nearly against Gavin's head but he doesn't flinch away, just stares right into the eye masks – covered, tinted or something because Gavin can't see shit, but it's effective enough for Vagabond to clearly be a bit, at the least, curious about Gavin's current response to the situation at hand.

He probably expected begging, pleading at this moment. Not defiance, not the attitude Gavin currently has.

“That was impressive,” Geoff finally says. “I might need that, actually.”

“You might fucking need this dimwit fucking blowing up more of our shit?” The short one replies.

“Shut up for a second, Michael,” Geoff snaps. Immediately, the man does so. Gavin can see the way he tenses – not used to being reprimanded, clearly.

“I'm having an issue with one warehouse in particular. The crew fucking thinks they can set up on my territory and fuck with my deals. I haven't got the time to deal with them, nor the explosives to spare.”

“I probably don't either,” Gavin answers, trying to brush it off as casual as possible.

“You do if you want to live.” Geoff smirks, but Gavin can sense the threat clear enough.

“So you need me to blow up some shoddy warehous-” 

“I don't need you to. You want to, if you want to live.”

Gavin hums in thought for a bit longer than necessary.

“Deal,” he says, sticking out his hand. Geoff responds in turn, clasping their hands together, managing to move around Vagabond without disturbing his plain sight of Gavin at the end of his gun.

“Better do a fucking good job, Free,” Geoff warns. Gavin barely registers the shock of having his name known – but he should've expected it, should've already known they probably knew his and Dan's names.

“My life depends on it,” Gavin smirks. “Besides, it's my speciality. Leave it to me.”

Slowly, the Vagabond lowers the gun. Gavin looks pointedly down at his dick, and he hears a sigh from upstairs before the sight moves away.

It still feels like he's being held at gunpoint, though. But that's okay – because he's not afraid of that, he can work well with it. He knows just what to do, because he's not scared, he's not fearful of the barrel like most are.

“Nice doing business with you.”

It was a meeting that Gavin doesn't tell Dan about.

* * *

3.

Gavin knows that someone from the Fake AH Crew is following him.

He first noticed it when he went out for drinks with Dan at some shitty pub and there's some guy trailing after him, hood up and hands in his pockets. He's sneaky – and usually, usually Gavin wouldn't notice, except he was looking out for someone to be doing exactly that. He has been for the past week, ever since he blew up the warehouse for his end of the deal with the Fake AH Crew.

Except he brushed it off – because maybe, he reasoned, it was just some drunk guy who was too shy to talk. Maybe he just wanted a friend. Besides, didn't matter much after he got smashed and forgot half the night.

He didn't forget his trail though.

He got it confirmed when he went back to his apartment after Dan left for yet another deal in some other part of the city which would take a few days. Gavin went with him for the first few couple days – losing the trail, but as soon as he returned, he knew they had begun following him again. Someone had tampered with the lock of his apartment door, had tried getting in, but, thankfully, hadn't been able to.

There wasn't much room for doubt that it was someone from the Fake AH Crew. No other crew had taken particular interest in him – and Gavin had been on the lookout, had been watching to see if anyone knew it was his doings for blowing up and hindering a lot of plans.

He still hasn't told Dan about running into the Fake AH Crew, though. Mostly because he'd be pretty pissed if he found out Gavin went on such a big gig without his backup, and also because if he found out Gavin had yet another gun to his head he would possibly drag Gavin out of Los Santos.

Gavin let them trail for a few days. He was lying low, anyway, not really doing much after blowing such a huge production. He had used up most of his explosives and it was going to take a few days for some more to come in.

During the time, he mostly just sat about and caught up on some games. He kept his ear out, though, for any potential targets he could hit when his equipment came in.

When it does, he has his target. It's some crew bordering on the Fake AH Crew's – and Gavin has the idea that maybe, maybe they'll appreciate what he's doing and won't snipe him if he accidentally manages to offend them. Besides, it's still a goal of his to get into the crew itself. It's growing bigger and bigger – gaining territory faster than Gavin has ever seen before. There's no doubt they'll run the city soon enough.

Except, except when he gets there, there's a guy standing there with a hot pink rocket launcher. And just when Gavin takes a step towards him, ready to fight because he doesn't recognise the guy at first, the building explodes.

It takes a few moments for Gavin to recollect his senses – it was the shock, mostly, because if there was one thing he was expecting it was absolutely not for the guy in the hoodie with the hot pink rocket launcher to fucking blow up the warehouse.

And then it clicks. He frowns because damn – that's ruined one of his hits. There goes one of his plans for the day up in bloody smoke.

“You're welcome,” the guy says, bowing. It's not any of the three members that were around the table when he met the crew, he knows that immediately. Jack, possibly, the one they talked about? But he's too young – there's an air of cockiness, this guy knows exactly what he's doing and Gavin sighs a little.

“So you're the sod that had the sights on my dick,” Gavin declares. The other guy straightens up from his bow, shouldering the rocket launcher and it doesn't help Gavin's easiness with the fact the sight of it is directly on him.

The guy snorts. “Yeah, that guy. Dick-sight guy. Wait, what did you call me? The dick-sight sod. Sight-dick sod. Dick sod sight. Sight sod dick, reporting for duty.”

Gavin frowns.

“No? Alright then. Me and my big fucking mouth making a great greeting,” the other guy grumbles. He steps towards Gavin, who just begins to drum his fingers against his thigh.

He realises he's doing it in the same rhythm that the Vagabond did the first time Gavin saw him.

“I'm Ray,” the guy introduces, waving a bit. The frown doesn't leave Gavin's face.

“I'm leaving, then,” Gavin murmurs, because there's no point to him being there, is there? The other guy – Ray – has it all sorted, clearly, and now Gavin may as well go blow up some other building to release some irritation.

He's tired, he's hungry and bloody annoyed because here's his trail, suddenly showing up and blowing up Gavin's own hit that he bloody planned. And – and why the hell was this guy following him in the first place?

At that moment, he doesn't care. Irritation is bubbling up and it would probably just be best if he went and blew something up then slept for a few hours. The Fake AH Crew is not a crew is one he wants to mess with - particularly the guy who had some kind of amusement in following Gavin and could probably ruin his life in a second.

Except the world decided to mess with Gavin Free because he turns, and he hears Ray shout something, and when he turns back Ray is crumbled to the floor, the rocket launcher hitting with a heavy thud that makes Gavin wince.

He doesn't react fast enough, doesn't see the guy sneak up behind him. He feels pain explode in the back of his head for a second, and then he doesn't feel anything.

Someone is saying his name, causing him to blearily come into consciousness. His eyes slowly open, but he scrunches them shut when pain explodes near the back of his head. He groans, absolutely hating the other guy, whoever they were, for waking him up.

He wants to go back into the blissful feeling of unconsciousness, but the other person is persistent.

“Gavin!” they almost shout, and Gavin can hear it, can hear the desperation there. “Come on dude, I swear to God if you fucking have brain damage Geoff will fucking kill me. I mean, he'll kill me for following you about but he'll also kill me again if you end up dead. And then he'll kill me for being dead. So just fucking wake up man.”

“Don' wanna,” Gavin finds himself mumbling, and the other – Ray, his mind dully supplies – sighs in relief.

“Okay, good, I hope you just have a concussion at worst. I can't tell from over here. But stay awake for me, alright? I don't want to be talking to myself for any longer,” Ray says, and Gavin wonders what he means exactly from “over here”.

He slowly peeks his eyes open, squinting and trying to adjust to the shitty lit room. It's big - an open warehouse, much like one Gavin would usually take a lot of glee in blowing up. The only light they're getting is from small holes in the ceiling, and Gavin realises they're in a basement of some sort.

He can barely see Ray, who's on the other side of the warehouse and leaning against the wall like Gavin is – and also presumedly tied up. He squirms a bit, but he can't think clearly enough to try and figure out how to get out of the bonds. He thinks there's zip ties along with rope, which is absolutely bloody annoying to get out of.

Squirming doesn't do much, which is what he expects. With a defeated sigh, he carefully leans his head back against the wall.

“So, this is fun,” Ray says, and Gavin just mumbles in half-hearted agreement.

“I mean, porn's taught me a lot,” Ray continues. “You, me, in a big basement and tied up. Like, we know there's only one thing that's going to happen here.”

“We'll get beaten up and possibly killed?” Gavin answers in false cheer. He can't muster enough energy to try and amuse Ray's antics.

“What kind of porn have you watched? Jesus. I'm talking like the kinky shit, you know wi-”

He's cut off, thankfully, when the door creaks open. It's heavy, scraping against the concrete and making Gavin wince. It, at the least, confirms his theory of being in a basement.

Five men walk in through the door. The first is a broad man, having to duck under the doorframe because of his height. There's a gun slung across his back and a pistol in his right hand. Two other men, almost identical, step in after him with rifles in their hands. They're not much shorter or broader, and Gavin has the idea they'll probably be able to snap him in two. The last two to walk through the door are – as Gavin sees immediately – amateurs. New to the business, new to the possible crew they were in the hands of. They shakily hold pistols.

Two weak links. Gavin smiles to himself.

“Well well,” the leader says. Gavin's teeth grit together, biting down the urge to spit in the guy's face. He's smirking, his eyes glancing between the two of them on the floor.

“Look what we have here. Two little brats who think they're in the big leagues.” The other men laugh cruelly, but Gavin's attention is on the two weaker ones who are obviously nervous. They don't look at either Gavin or Ray.

“In the Fake AH Crew. Please, what a shit fucking crew. You're not the top dogs, for fuck's sake, and I'm fucking sick of brats like you coming in and thinking you are,” the leader continues. Gavin frowns, ready to argue that he's not in the crew, but Ray shoots him a look that kept his mouth shut.

“Well,” Ray cuts off, “at least we don't act like the bitches of the pack, unlike your boys there.”

They all glare at Ray. The leader, though, quickly changes his face into a smirk that really manages to unsettle Gavin.

“Oh, you two will fill in that place soon enough,” the leader responds, earning chuckles from the rest of the crew.

“Sorry, I only suck dick for a twenty,” Ray replies, and Gavin almost chokes on his saliva.

“You're bloody cheap, Ray,” Gavin snorts, and Ray shoots him a lazy grin that Gavin can see because of the light coming through from the open door.

“Hey, a man's gotta eat.”

“That's why you break into banks.”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you, or I will fucking cut off your lips.” The leader storms up to Ray, crouching to his level. The other two twins come up to Gavin, but they don't crouch. They just lean down slightly, cruel smirks on their faces – and Gavin keeps his head up, makes sure he doesn't squirm to get out from under their gazes.

“But then I can't suck your dick,” Ray points out, and Gavin frowns when he can see – between the two twins currently standing above him – the leader tense up and take a swing at Ray.

He stops his wince from escaping as Ray grunts, spitting on the floor. The leader laughs smugly.

And Gavin – he can't explain it, but there's an overwhelming feeling that he needs to do something, needs to keep Ray out of the firing line because he hates it, hates when he can't do anything. And besides, smartassing was his speciality. He wasn't about to let this guy outshine him.

“Hey, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” Gavin provokes, looking up at the two snarling faces. He grins – good, easily provoked.

He glances quickly to his left to see the two amateurs shifting uncomfortably, unsure of where to go.

“Picking up kids on the corner of streets?” Gavin continues. “I mean, you guys definitely gotta be desperate to pick up such kids. What fucked you guys up?”

The two above him snarl. Gavin just smirks.

Except in his taunting he's lost focus of Ray, and when he takes a look at him he has a gun at his head.

_Shit, what did you bloody do, Ray?_

He's got to kick it up a notch and get that gun off Ray.

“I take it you lost some boys,” Gavin taunts, his voice louder, almost desperately trying to reach the leader's ears. “Maybe you're old bitches of the pack. Maybe they got caught in cross fire, maybe you offed them yourselves. “

He's hit a sensitive spot – he can see it, the way the leader tenses. It's probably not suicide, but there's definitely an issue around the crew members. Good. He's got the attention of the leader.

“Shit, you really are trigger-happy fuckers,” Rays says, and Gavin shoots him a look of warning.

The leader's attention is back onto Ray – and _damnit_ , Gavin can't up it, he can't think fast enough to get the attention back off Ray.

“It was your fucking crew!” The leader suddenly shouts, and Gavin starts – not expecting the outburst. The two above him didn't either, jumping back to look at the leader.

“It was you fucks that fucking killed my men. _You_! You're fucking stupid crew that shot my men. I'm going to fucking avenge them, I'll fucking rip out your tongues and fucking tie your intestines together. I'll burn you fucking alive for slaughtering my men.” And the gun, the gun is shaking and Gavin doesn't trust the man to keep his finger off the trigger in his state.

“It was me!” Gavin yells, suddenly, surprising himself. And he's desperate, desperate to get that gun away from Ray.

“I killed them, your bastards from this crew. I fired the shots,” he continues, and just hopes, just hopes that this man doesn't know exactly who killed the men, because otherwise he's thrown himself into a pit of death.

Luckily, it seems he didn't.

The leader turns to Gavin, and glares at him. The gun drops from Ray's head and Gavin almost lets out a sigh of relief, even as the leader storms over and pushes the two twins aside to crouch in front of Gavin.

“You? You're the fuck that killed my men,” his voice has dropped, deadly and unforgiving and Gavin can only think “whoops.”

“That's what I bloody said you munge,” he fires back, voice still a bit louder than his normal volume.

The gun is at his head in an instant. Gavin can hear yell Ray yelling, trying to get the focus back on him and off Gavin, but he's not going to let that happen.

“You fuck, I'm going to fucking kill you,” the leader threatens, and Gavin smirks which only makes the gun press harder to his head.

“Go on,” Gavin encourages. “Do it. Prove you really are just some trigger-happy bastard.”

The leader growls, and Gavin sees him move his finger to the trigger, sees the muscles tense in his arm, and he knows – he knows this man is about to pull that trigger.

And he's not afraid, not afraid of looking at death right in the face, looking at that gun which is about to blow his brains everywhere.

_Sorry Dan._

It's all he can think – and it's a suitable last thought, isn't it? Maybe Dan won't bring him back to kill him again.

He doesn't close his eyes, just looks up at the gun and smiles.

He doesn't see Ray break free of his binds, doesn't see him move across the room to take down the two amateurs and take a gun.

What he does see – or rather, hear – is a gunshot, and suddenly the leader is collapsing sideways, blood spilling out into a puddle under his head. There's a bullet entry wound through one side of his head – the side the amateurs were standing on, the side Ray's now standing.

Gavin squirms in his bonds as the two twins snarl and turn to Ray, drawing their own weapons. They're no match for Ray, though, who takes them down immediately, the speed and deadly accuracy astonishing Gavin.

He's glad that Ray did not shoot him in the dick, that's for sure.

Ray moves quickly, removing Gavin's binds.

“X-Ray to the rescue,” Ray mumbles, tossing Gavin the gun from a twin.

Gavin picks it up, checking the bullets before getting up from the floor. He steps over the bodies, grimacing as he accidentally steps in the pool of blood. He's been breathing through his mouth – trying his damned hardest not to get the smell.

“My hero,” Gavin says, as completely deadpan as he can, before going over to check the two amateurs. Alive, just knocked out. Gavin unclips the gun, removing the bullets before tossing it across the floor.

“So, where you going now?” Ray asks as they step outside the warehouse, checking for any other people. Fortunately, there's not.

“Why ask when you're probably just going to follow me anyway and find out?”

Ray shrugs. “Fair point. But I'd rather head back to my crew and grab my weapons first before I follow you anyway.”

“Awh, you care about me,” Gavin teases.

“You're a fucking dipshit who will probably some how walk into fucking lava despite there being no lava whatsoever around here. Or start up a fucking gang war. Who the fuck knows, but I'd rather at least have a fucking rocket launcher with me.”

“Don't be mean, X-Ray.”

They stand awkwardly for a moment, unsure exactly of what to do or even where they were.

“Actually,” Ray starts up. “I'd rather not lose sight of you because you might die in the short span I'll be at the warehouse. Want to tag along and follow me?”

Gavin doesn't tell Dan about that encounter either, and doesn't tell him about following Ray back to the warehouse – the first allowed visit of many.

* * *

4.

He's officially been with the Fake AH Crew for no longer than a bloody day and he's already got a gun to his head.

It's taken weeks to actually be officially recognised as a member of the crew. Weeks of Ray's “accidental and completely unintentional” visits at locations Gavin's just about to blow up. Weeks of slowing getting used to working with Michael – who shares Gavin's love for blowing shit up – and Jack, who helps set the charges in the spots to maximise the devastation in the damages. Weeks of going out after hits with the two, going for meals and finding out that Michael has a disturbing stomach of something stronger than steel – and also finding out to never bet him in a food challenge, even though he constantly does – and finding out that Jack loves any kind of meat, and will help Gavin with his own explosions for just a piece of bacon from his plate.

Weeks of trying to stop averting his gaze from the Vagabond with his rare run-ins with the man. He sometimes tags along with Geoff when the latter asks to meet and team up, or even follows Jack around, but Gavin's never met him alone. When he does, that's when he's able to keep his eyes up and look right at him without averting away. It's only when the two of them – just the two – are standing in front of a burning building and there's ash and soot all over Gavin's face and Vagabond's mask. Vagabond grumbles something, rubbing at a particularly dirty spot on the mask, before removing it completely.

The face underneath does not reach Gavin's expectations. In a good way, surprisingly. There's no evil red eyes, no glaring and hard features that make Gavin's stomach shrivel. There's red face paint, mixing in with the ash and running down his face from the heat. But it's an admittedly attractive face, and Gavin is so lost in admiring his face that he doesn't even realise the man is talking to him.

“What?” Gavin mumbles, not at all really paying attention because wow, okay, Ryan's got some nice eyes on him and yeah okay he can definitely keep looking at that jawline for the rest of the day.

“Ryan,” Vagabond repeats, amused. Gavin blinks sheepishly out of his daze.

Gavin realises that's his name, and it's like he's lost the actual physical ability to be able to breathe. Ryan. _Ryan Ryan Ryan._

He decides he likes that name a lot. He also decides he can definitely live with getting to know Ryan himself more.

It takes weeks of Geoff trying to contact him, trying to join forces to take down territories – because, the leader admits, he quite liked how Gavin took down the first one they struck a deal on. Except Gavin can't respond, because Dan's come back and isn't too keen on joining the crew.

“B, I can't work with a crew like this full time in this city. I'll help, I'll help _you_ , but I got too much shit to do back home,” he had said, and Gavin had tried to argue it. Except, of course, Dan was right – he didn't have the time and the ideals to stay in Los Santos. If Gavin was to join, it was just him.

So he did, eventually. Reached out to Geoff. However, it took a while to actually be properly and officially placed as a member in the crew; he had to find his place with the other five, see how he worked with them all together. That was finally covered after a small but successful heist, and from there he was welcomed into the crew as an official member.

And it's the day after, when Gavin and the others – except Ray- have the absolute worst hangovers and everything hurts and he's pretty sure that's because Michael and Geoff seem to have a thing for tackling him, according to Ray.

He had crashed at their apartment – large, almost a penthouse, with about five damn bedrooms and a television bigger than Gavin and Dan's old place – and stayed for the whole day, groaning on the couch as they all watched some shitty reality television show and nursing their hangover.

He finally is able to walk out just before it starts getting dark, convincing the others he actually does have shit to do back at his place, thanks, and although he'd love to stay – he really would – he's actually got a deal to work with for the next day that he was meant to complete about a month ago. Jack escorts him to the door, but trusts Gavin enough to walk home.

It's not far, just down some shady alleys and shortcuts and he's there within ten minutes. The trick for Los Santos was just to act like any other criminal – shady and possibly a bit crazy – and you wouldn't be messed with. Start grabbing your coat or your bag in fear and you were absolutely bound to be mugged.

Except somewhere in his haze, he must've slipped up and there's an arm wrapping itself around his throat from behind – and wow, didn't that just bring up the old days when he first moved here. He's dragged back into another empty alley that is definitely not the place he wants to go to get home.

And getting the jump on Gavin was not easy – not anymore. Dan couldn't even get behind him and scare him anymore, as Gavin usually saw it coming beforehand. Except he's too bloody hungover and his head is pounding and he's pretty sure this bastard has his arm way too fucking tight around his throat.

The arm around his throat drops and he's pushed in the back, being kicked behind the knees to force him down. His knees hit the ground with enough force that he's pretty sure he could've shattered his kneecaps.

He hears a gun cock – and realises that stupidly, he hasn't got one himself – behind his head and he groans. The person walks in front of him, holding the gun shakily and Gavin hides the smile he's about to show. He moves from his knees to sitting in a crouch, and the person behind him doesn't say anything about it.

 _Amateur._ He's on some kind of a bloody luck streak.

“Hands up!” The man shouts – young, evidently, but he's built pretty big and pretty muscley to the point where Gavin would probably question doing the move he's thinking about if it wasn't for the fact the gun is shaking and the kid is clearly nervous.

“Alright,” Gavin mumbles, moving his hands up in the typical surrender pose.

He hasn't got anything on him – he stupidly left his gun back at Geoff's apartment and his other I.D is at his own place. There's a few coins in his pockets, but that's about it.

He's hungover as shit, but he's certainly able to take this idiot take within a minute.

So he does. The kid backs him up a bit, and Gavin waits until he gets closer, to the point where the gun is only a few inches from his head, and he's a bit sloppy, a bit slow, but it works. His hands goes for the gun, grabbing onto it and using it as leverage to bring himself up to swing his legs out, kicking the man in the knees. They both go down, the gun being knocked to the side.

Gavin knows he's got to get up quickly, except the world is spinning and his legs are tangled and he fucked up the move, somehow, mustn't have hit the right spot or not got enough leverage and he's hit the ground bloody hard. He's winded – possibly a bit more than the kid, because he's still hungover as shit and he doesn't know his up to his down.

He can hear himself groaning, trying to bear his surroundings.

_Get it the bloody hell together, for Christ's sake!_

The other kid is able to get it together quicker. He gets up, just seconds before Gavin, going for the gun and Gavin swears.

There's suddenly a gunshot, one close enough to make Gavin wish he was bloody deaf because Jesus Christ thanks he's already got a marching band going on in his head, no need to add the fucking bullet in there.

He's able to look up to see someone standing in the alley, gun steady and still, deadly accurate. He looks to the side to watch the kid flee – not dead or hit, he's lucky.

Gavin watches the figure approach, his eyes squinting to try and see who it is. He can't place them though, not until they're crouching to his level and extending a gloved hand.

He takes it, retching as the world spins and he leans over his knees once he's upright, his stomach churning and spinning wildly.

“Hey, lovely Ryan,” Gavin finally says, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth despite not actually throwing up.

“Hello Gavin,” Ryan replies, patting Gavin's shoulder. “I see you had a nice walk.”

“It was going wonderfully. Just getting some air,” Gavin replies, straightening himself up and smiling weakly. Ryan's got the mask off, but he's able to stick to the shadows enough that Gavin can barely see his features.

“Making some friends?” Ryan remarks, and Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, he was bloody friendlier than you at first.”

“ _What?_ ” Ryan asks, mocking disbelief. “No, listen, he had a gun to your head. I was much nicer.”

“You also had a gun to my head, you pleb. This guy was at least nice enough to be stupid enough about it.”

“Fair point. Except neither times you actually cared about the fucking gun to your head.”

“Hey, I mean I cared. I cared a whole bloody lot.”

“Maybe. But you didn't care enough to be afraid.”

“ _Maybe,_ ” Gavin mimics, because he's too hungover to even be arguing about his apart lack of self-preservation when there's a barrel to his head. “There's nothing to be afraid of when you've got nothing to lose.”

Ryan hums in thought at Gavin's confession. He leads him back, except – and Gavin doesn't realise until they're actually at the door – that Ryan's lead him right back to Geoff's apartment instead of Gavin's own.

Gavin just follows him inside. The deals can wait for another day anyway.

* * *

5.

Gavin wonders what it is with people putting guns to his head. _Seriously_. There's a real issue there. It's like Michael has just gone and wrote “PLACE GUN HERE” in sharpie on Gavin's head while he was sleeping.

He's pretty sure Michael hasn't done that, at least. Maybe there's a reward floating around underground for it. A point system to see who can actually find the weakspot of Gavin Free when putting a gun to his head.

Then again, it's not like he's got it any more than the other five of them. Maybe not Ray or Ryan, though, who stick to the shadows most of the time. If anyone should have a point system, it should be for actually being able to get a gun on those two.

If anyone could rival him in having guns to their head, it's probably Michael, Jack or Geoff. Michael with the quick temper who acted on impulse – not enough to be destructive and deadly for the rest of them, but bad enough for some deals to seriously go to shit when he heard something he didn't like. Bad enough for whole crews at a time to place their guns to his head.

Jack, being the right hand man, was also a likely target. Jack told him so, recalling him stories of facing down the barrel constantly because a deal isn't going someone's way and they seem to think he's greet leverage. Geoff, being the leader, probably has guns at his head at all times.

Except, except for some damn reason, there's gun always on his own head too.

“It's the nose,” Michael teases, after Gavin complains about it one day, when there's been yet another one to his head.“It's like a fucking beacon. Drawing guns in like moths.”

And the thing is, the guns aren't even terrifying. Or scary. About as much as a small child dressed up in a white sheet going “boo”. They were just irritating, just set back the pace and pissed him right off because it was so fucking typical and boring.

Boring was not something he came to Los Santos for.

There's a meeting, between the planning of one of their bigger heists, that they need to attend because there's been some shit going down in one of their resources.

Apparently, Jack reports, one of their weapon dealers – one of the ones they needed to actually complete the heist, because they needed some particular explosives and rifles – has been having trouble meeting demands.

“Can't we just get the shit from someone else? Surely someone else has it,” Ryan asks, a little bit frustrated – like Gavin, annoyed at setbacks. Just wanted to get into the shit going boom.

“Oh, definitely they do. Except we have a narrow time frame and they were the only guys that could get it in that time,” Geoff replies, as they're driving in their van to the meeting point. Gavin's sitting with Ray in the back, swaying as the car turns.

Their hands are nervously connected, and it's interesting to Gavin about how the both of them are trained to kill, trained to keep their head high when faced down a barrel and about five million ways to slice someone with a lightbulb, but they're both sending each other nervous glances and both their hearts are racing just from the small action of holding hands.

The relationship between them is new and very fragile – it's hard to find that balance between the six of them, as the five were only just starting to happen when Gavin barged his way in and set tensions. They were resolved with his joining, but they're still all so nervous about this, about each other, that Gavin knows this is one thing that will take time and will have setbacks.

He's surprisingly okay with this.

They eventually get to the warehouse, right near the docks, where the arranged meeting will be held between the Fake AH Crew and the suppliers.

Ray goes up a building that's conveniently opposite the warehouse, disappearing from Gavin's side with a quick squeeze of his hand and smile before he's gone. Gavin can't even see him once he's hit the floor he's located at, can't see the rifle poking through a window.

Jack is acting as getaway, driving the van around the side and setting up their other vehicles. Michael, Ryan and Gavin are to escort Geoff inside, where he'll talk business crap Gavin doesn't care for. He's here for the explosives and that's about it.

They walk through the doors, meeting at the middle where there's another broader man with a crooked smile and a sharp eye that immediately sets Gavin's nerves on edge. There's five others behind him, and Gavin barely skims over them before his eyes settle back onto one in particular.

He's familiar, Gavin realises, but he can't place where. While the man and Geoff talk, all Gavin does is stare at the man, who has his face concealed but there's something – there's definitely something so hauntingly familiar and it's driving Gavin insane.

“What is it, Boi?” Michael mumbles from beside him, nudging him. Gavin almost startles, almost, but reigns himself in quickly.

“Ah, nothing my Boi. Getting lost in thought,” Gavin replies, barely moving his mouth in reply because he can feel that other guy staring in return now.

“You and thought?” Ray snorts through their earpieces. “Yeah, fucking great combination. Michael, I suggest getting the fuck out of there.”

Gavin goes to roll his eyes, but stops about halfway to look at the ceiling to pretend he absolutely was not rolling his eyes – something Geoff would likely kill him for in such a meeting, particularly when Gavin has absolutely no clue what's happening.

Gavin expected the deal to go over smoothly. Just to organise some bumps on whatever road it is Geoff's riding on, to sort it out without an issue because they're the top crew in Los Santos, they can get whatever the bloody hell they want.

He's definitely not expecting Jack and Geoff to mutter “ _fuck_ ” at the exact same time with the exact same mixture of both irritation and in that tone that something-has-fucked-up, and it's probably best they quit the deal as soon as they can.

Gavin goes to look around, to scan what the problem is, except he's come to too late and – and he didn't notice the others that have been moving away from each other, drawn away almost in an unconscious act to widen their protection circle, to gain more space in this warehouse – there's now someone launching themselves at him.

They're too far apart to gain cover, and they've also each got their hands full. Ryan has two launching at him, and the others all have one. The rest of them, apparently, had been paying about as much attention as Gavin because they haven't even drawn their weapons, they're forced to go hand to hand.

He dodges a swing and returns one of his own, except the opponent is a lot bigger and taller than Gavin and he can't even swing to hit the man's head. He gets his shoulder instead and curses, withdrawing his arm immediately and ducking another messy blow.

His hand to hand is pretty rusty. He's gotten lessons from Ryan and Michael, but he's not thinking clearly enough to pull off the moves with the same efficiency. The guy he's going against is brutal, not letting Gavin gain a second to regain his thoughts. His own moves are sloppy, barely glancing off the other guy.

He hears a gunshot, and he can feel his heart almost stop because he isn't sure who's fired it, isn't sure who's been hit. His heart restarts when he is able to glance over and see that it's one of the guy's that's been fighting Ryan.

But the glance is enough to distract him to miss the blow that's aimed at his head. All he registers is that sudden explosion of pain on the left side of his head, and he's knocked down with the force. He barely is able to throw his arms down to help make sure his head doesn't crack open on the impact of the warehouse floor. He still hits it hard, immediately assuming he's got a concussion.

Better to assume and acknowledge his injuries to work around them to try and deny them. The world is spinning and everything is moving in a funny kind of motion, like the world is randomly pausing and then suddenly catching up to main time. Like buffering a video on a live stream.

The other guy stands above him – Gavin's not too sure how long it took for him to get there, but in his eyes it's in an instant. He goes to move, to kick the guy's legs and get away, but the other guy is quick to move, straddling him around the stomach.

Gavin groans, trying to get him off but the man weighs a fucking tonne and isn't moving. The man smirks, leaning down and Gavin retches because his breath absolutely stinks and he just smells absolutely disgusting in general.

Someone else crouches down into his vision. The man he was staring at earlier, he realises, and it's that same nervous look – like a mouse standing up to a cat – that gives him away. He recognises him as the kid that tried mugging him back in that alley while walking home hungover.

The kid puts a gun to Gavin's head, and Gavin lets his own smile show. The kid furrows his eyebrows, obviously confused just as every other bloody person is when Gavin does the exact opposite of someone expected in this situation.

_Boring, boring, boring._

He glances to the side where he can see the others, all currently about to defeat their opponent. They're all alive, all safe, and he breathes a sigh of relief. When they're standing above the bodies of the crew, and look to Gavin, they freeze.

They haven't take a shot at either guy, he realises, because the other man straddling Gavin is currently pulling out his own gun.

Gavin traces it, ready to sigh in irritation when it touches his head, except – except it doesn't.

He feels himself tense as the gun, he realises, isn't heading towards his forehead.

“Open up, fucker,” the man above him grumbles, and Gavin clamps his mouth shut. The man sighs in annoyance, and signals something to the kid that's crouched beside him.

He hears a gunshot, and a couple seconds later feels the explosion of pain in his right shoulder. It's enough, sudden and shocking enough, that he lets out a gasp which is enough for the gun to be forced into his mouth.

Tears from the pain begin to form and he clamps his eyes shut, trying to keep them from falling. He gives himself a few seconds, trying to even out his breathing. He was lucky enough for the kid to point the gun downwards, to the floor, rather than at the top of his shoulder where it could rip through his whole right side.

Once his breathing is doing a bit better and there's a low chance of going into shock, he opens his eyes. The gun is still in his mouth, pushing down to his throat.

It's cold and has that horrible taste of metal and he wants to gag and retch as it begins to push too far back, but he forces himself to breathe through it. Throwing up around the gun and possibly suffocating from his own vomit was not the way he wanted to go.

He realises, somewhere between hearing his boys beginning to shout in panic and hearing Ray swearing through the comm, that there's something in his stomach, heavy and painful and he realises it's fear.

It spreads through his bones, and he feels a chill run through him. It's been a long time, such a long long time, since he's felt it. Hasn't ever felt it when there's a gun to his head.

But – but he's in so much fucking pain and he's concussed and bruised and bloody and he's pretty sure that the fear is a given considering there's a fucking gun in his mouth, pushing down his throat.

He can't hear the boys yelling angrily, but he's able to see Geoff making some exaggerated arm movements in the corner of his eyes. He steps up to Gavin, but the man above him just pushes the gun further. Geoff relents, throwing his hands up and stepping back.

“Drop the fucking guns, Ramsey,” the guy above him demands, his arm beginning to shake with the gun in anger. He's panicking, Gavin realises, more than himself.

Reluctantly, the four of them do. He knows what that means, though – that even if Ray takes down one, there's the major possibility the other man will be alive long enough to shoot Gavin. And they can't communicate with Ray, can't ask what man he's going to take down.

They can't afford missing the shot. They're going on a chance, right now, that the men won't shoot Gavin if they obey while they think of a plan.

He trusts them, but he can see how frantic Michael's becoming and how agitated Ryan's getting – and, and he wonders if maybe this is it, this it it and he'll never be with his boys to pull off bigger heists, won't ever have another bev night and won't actually ever get to kiss any of them. They still hadn't had the chance, hadn't worked up the nerve.

In that moment, Gavin regrets that the most. He would've at least liked to have kissed one of them. He doesn't think he'll get the chance the more he watches the others.

They don't know what to do. That, that scares Gavin more than anything.

There's a tense few moments where neither side moves. Gavin tries to restrict his breathing to be as small as possible, trying to keep his shaking under control. It's not under his control, though, it's his body naturally trying to deal with the pain and the shock.

He wonders how long it'll be until he actually does go into shock. Judging by the blood loss, probably not long.

“Look, why don't we just talk this one out. You don't want to shoot that idiot -” He hears Geoff say, his voice tighter than normal, trying to level it out and keep it under control. There's barely restrained anger lanced in his tone.

He's not exactly sure what happens next. The man above him crumbles backwards, releasing his grip on the gun as he falls backwards, a neat bullet wound in between his eyes. Someone, he sees bends down for their gun – Ryan, he realises – and the kid beside him goes down.

It must've been the shock, the hesitance of the kid, that is the only reason he didn't end up with his brains across the warehouse floor. They probably saw the fear in the kid, probably placed their chance on the fact he wouldn't move for a couple seconds if they did something quickly.

The gun is still in his mouth. It's dropped down to his chest, the top of it moving just behind the back of his top front teeth, pointing up towards the roof of his mouth. Carefully, so so carefully, he brings his head back, his teeth scraping against the end of the gun as he moves to get it out from his mouth.

He whips his head to the side, dislodging the gun from its position and getting it away from his head. It falls down between his neck and right shoulder, wincing as it brushes against the wound and landing in the pool of blood.

The world is still again for a few moments. There's just his rapid and shallow breathing and his heartbeat which is beating irregularly. Shock, he figures, the shock is beginning to kick in.

It dulls out some of the pain, though. It also dulls out his other senses. He doesn't hear the others, the others talking rapidly as they move to him, placing themselves around him and speaking to him hurriedly.

He hears none of it, but can see they're frantic. He tries to blink himself out of the state he's in, but he can't do it and he just lets himself stare at Ryan, who's moving to put pressure on his shoulder.

He hisses, the pain cutting through his dulled state. He hears Ryan mumbling apologies, focusing on his voice to drag himself out into a more conscious state.

“Hey, hey Gav, over here buddy,” someone's saying, and Gavin looks down to see that it's Geoff, sitting near his stomach. “There we go. Hey, got yourself in a bit of a mess, didn't you?”

He's speaking so softly, like Gavin's a bloody spooked animal – and he's not, he _isn't_. He's just been shot, that's it. Nothing new that none of them haven't experienced before.

“Alright, we're going to sit you upright. Can you do that?” Ryan asks, and Gavin frowns. He didn't want to even think about moving.

“Too bad, not your say,” Geoff says, in response to Gavin's reluctance. “Just breathe, alright?”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, no shit Geoffers,” he says weakly, his voice croaky and quiet.

Not very slowly, Ryan is moving him up. He's pretty sure he hears yelling, he's also pretty sure that it's him. There's someone clasping his hand, and he recognises it as Michael's without opening his eyes. He isn't sure when he closed them, but he doesn't want to open them any time soon as he works on breathing through the pain that's exploded in his shoulder and head.

“Jack,” Geoff is mumbling, “need you to bring the car around and get the medical supplies out.”

His breath is uneven, hitching with every breath in. Ryan has taken off his jacket, tying it as best he can around Gavin's shoulder.

There's a blank in his memory after that. He doesn't remember moving – Ray mentions he passed out when they speak later about it – and he comes to slowly while they're in the car.

He sees Jack's knuckles going white on the steering wheel as he speeds along the roads a bit quicker than what Gavin thinks is necessary. His head is in someone's lap, and they're probably the ones running their fingers through his hair. He hasn't got a view of who's in the passenger seat or who's in the back.

He can, however, see that it's Ryan above him. He smiles weakly, and Ryan looks down, returning his own tired one.

“How you feeling?” He asks, quietly, and Gavin sees Geoff's head poking out from the passenger seat to look at Gavin with his own weak smile.

“Absolutely terrific,” Gavin mumbles. The pain is definitely duller, but it's still there, and his head is still pounding and there's still that awful taste of that damn gun in his mouth that he's pretty sure he won't be able to get rid of for quite some time.

“We got a bit to go, had to stop at the pharmacy to get some shit we haven't stocked up on. Wasn't expecting anyone to get shot today,” Ryan comments, his tone lightly teasing.

“Well, at least it was my shoulder and not my brains,” Gavin says, and Ryan tenses, his fingers stopping their rubbing to Gavin's slight irritation.

He doesn't say anything on the topic for a few minutes. Jack turns on the radio to a low volume, Geoff speaking to Michael and Ray in the back.

“I remember when I had that gun to your head,” Ryan mutters, quiet enough so the others don't hear above their conversation. “I remember how you didn't react at all to it. That alone was enough to hold my curiousity about you. I haven't met anyone who didn't show any kind of fear when there's a gun to their head.”

He stops for a moment, thinking. Gavin thinks back to that moment and has to smile a little. Neither of them could've expected the outcome they're currently in together.

“It was almost astonishing to me how many times that gun was to your head and you didn't show any kind of fear. I figured you were just insane, maybe unhinged.”

His fingers start up again, and Gavin leans back into them.

“But just then. That moment. We all saw it, it all made us stop because we haven't ever seen you like that. Tense up or be afraid. I think all of us kind of freaked out a bit at that,” Ryan admits, and Gavin's fists clench because it's definitely not like him to be like that, and he hates himself for making his boys worry like that when he wasn't meant to in that kind of situation.

“Sorry,” Ryan says, suddenly, and Gavin looks up at him in confusion. “I mean, we shouldn't have let that make us hesitate. We should've moved, I should've moved soone-”

“Shut the fuck up, Ryan,” Michael suddenly chimes in from the back.

“Yeah man, don't take all the self-brooding for yourself. Have some to share, you selfish asshole,” Ray adds on, leaning over the seat and grinning down at Gavin.

“I mean, it's like saying Gavin shouldn't have let that guy get on top of him like that,” Geoff says. “I mean, Gavin absolutely needs to go for some more hand-to-hand training for a few hours, but it's not his fault he likes being a bottom.”

“Oi!” Gavin squawks, feeling his face flush. “We haven't even bloody _kissed_ , how would you know what I'm like in bed?”

Ryan smirks. “Oh, we just know.”

Gavin grumbles under his breath.

The trip back to the apartment is filled with banter, Gavin barely conscious enough to actually hear it. Ryan gives him some sort of stronger painkiller, and soon enough he's gone from the world again.

He comes to in the bedroom. No one else is around him, but he can hear their chatter from somewhere in the apartment. A groan escapes his lips as the pain from his shoulder comes in, but his head feels a lot better at least.

Jack pops his head in soon after. “Hey, Gav,” he says, grinning and giving a small wave.

Gavin just groans again. “Time?” He asks, his throat feeling dry and croaky, and Jack hands him a glass of cold water that's gone in seconds once Gavin gets his mouth to it.

“Midday some time. Want to see the others?” Jack asks, sitting on the end on the bed. Gavin nods – he's already feeling too anxious, just sitting down and doing nothing. He wants to move, wants to see his boys.

When he steps out into the hallway with Jack's help, Geoff brushes up to him and grins.

“Hey buddy,” Geoff greets. “We've had to push the heist back because of you, you cocksucker,” he says, but Gavin can tell he's completely joking with him.

He doesn't even get a response. Geoff just smiles nervously and leans in, their lips connecting and Gavin forgets how to bloody breathe and his heart is pounding and all too soon, Geoff is pulling away. Gavin would've brought him back, except he goes to move his shoulder and sucks in a sharp breath as he forgets it's injured.  
Geoff just shoots him a playful smile, and guides him over to the table for some food.

Over the week, the others kiss him. Jack kisses him goodnight that same day Geoff kisses him. A couple days later, on a Wednesday, Michael kisses him before he goes out to a deal. On Thursday, Ray kisses him under a streetlight after Gavin convinces him to go for a midnight walk with him when neither of them can sleep. On Sunday, after they've pulled off the heist – with Gavin doing minimal work, but at least he's back in the field and the haul they've got is good – and they're laughing together on a motorbike after escaping the cops. Ryan makes him pull over, then removes their masks and kisses him.

The next time Gavin has a gun to his head is the following Tuesday. There's that brief flash of panic, where he's forced back into time when that gun was to his mouth and he realises, looking at the others, that's he's got something to lose now. Five people to lose.

Except those five people will fight until their last breaths to make sure Gavin keeps breathing – that they all keep breathing, and that flash is gone.

Over his life, he has more than enough guns pointed at his head. He's only ever been afraid once of one, when it was right in his mouth. After that incident, though, his boys make sure there's never a repeat of that incident. After that, with their protection, Gavin doesn't feel that same fear again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back, but I'm going to Japan tomorrow (woo!) for 9 days! So I'll be away again for a bit (sorry omg). But I basically still haven't packed and I wanted this posted before I leave so... here ya'll go :') Sorry about any mistakes and my general lack of actually staying on the basis of the prompt. At least, I hope it's enjoyable! Thank you to the anon for the prompt <3 All comments/kudos etc very appreciated <3 :)


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